More bad news

Ay. Ees sad news. So onexpeghed. My brorder een Eenglan', Sollie, ees dead. Heer ees leddhair frarm Anne:

I write with sad news I'm afraid - neither Lennie [Sollie's brorder] or Flora [darg weeth blarg] can face talking about it and asked me to tell you that Sollie was put to sleep yesterday after a very difficult three weeks of not being able to eat. Right up until the end he was perky and loving and still insisted on going out. I am amazed at his courage and at his spirit. The vet performed many tests and eventually came to the conclusion that the left hand side of his gullet was not functioning, maybe due to a recent trauma of some sort, and he was unable to eat. Unfortunately they could offer no hope of any sort of recovery except for trying steroid injections. I felt that he had suffered enough and could ask no more of him, and anyway the injections would not have helped the problem.

It has all been very, very sad and we weep at the gap in our lives. However, we also remember the way he filled the house and our hearts with his quirky and affectionate little ways.

Sorry to add to your sadness over the passing of poor Khedi with even more bad news.

I yam so sorry, Anne. I doan' know whad to say. Pleease geeb Lennie a leeck arn the head por me.An' i sen' beeg porrs to you. The darg weell be OK.

I yam a sad cad.

Sorm soyyestions

Fors' ob all, wadge whad you are sayeen'...I yam all ears, an' I yam tagheen' nodes.

Secon' ob all: why are you steell geddeen' papehair beells frarm CarnEdeesorn? I though' you tole' them no mas? Hole' them accountable!

Thor': Thees table ees clottered: eef you mos' receib Elle Decoration, pleease actually read eed and lorn frarm your bedhairs.

Fourth: I yab noticed thad fresh Nedfleeghs enbelopes are berber' slow een arribeen'. Thees ees onasseptable. I need new sorplies.

Thad's eed por now. Chegue bag ladehair.

Keeddy Leet-hair

Frarm the Nuebo York Times.

Dear Diary:

Early one recent morning, I was packing for the weekend. I would carry my luggage to work and not come back until Monday. But I needed to change my cat’s litter. I had to find a store in my Riverdale neighborhood that was open at 6:30 a.m.

I decided to run toward the shopping areas, carrying a small day pack, in the hope of finding an open store. And it was raining. I ran about half a mile until I came to a shopping street, but jogging up and back, getting wetter, I found all the shutters down. Turning to go home, I saw a brightly lit convenience store.

A man looked down at me from a platform behind the counter. “Do you have kitty litter?” I asked.

He looked questioningly at me.

“Kitty litter,” I repeated, holding my hands to represent a 10-pound bag, wet and dripping in my running shorts.

He spoke in Korean to a younger man, who pointed down the aisle, and then led me to the end. He reached up and brought down a small, white, furry stuffed kitten and handed it to me. Robert A. Miller

Gracias

Storbie - please post on your blog that I am so touched by the response to Kehdi's departure.

When I met Kehdi, she was perched on the back of a big armchair in the home of breeders of Maine Coones and when she saw me, she opened her little mouth and said, loudly: Weh weh (take me)!

When I saw her on her last day, in a raggedy bundle just inside the front door, she opened her little mouth and nothing came out. But I know she said "help me". At both times, I did.

Kehdi's sad mom

Loseen' carntrol

Sormtheen' smells feeshy.

The yoomans are eenterbieween' yoomans. To loogh afthair me. ME! Whyporque am I nard ad the eenterbiew??? Today was eenteriewed Mighe, bod all the yoomans deed was ead borghairs an' cheecken leebers. Sneeff. Deed they eben talghe abou' ME???

I weell nebber know.

I weell seed een thees part an chew grass onteel I yam ready to throw orp arn the carpet. I deman' to be presen' ad the eenterbiew to decide my own fade. I weell taghe carntrol ob my libe. Soch as eed ees. Pelleds.

Dayeen. Dayoud.

Help wanted

Eef I doan' ged a good cad seethair, I yam oud ob here!

The yoomans are goeen' away por Chreestmas, then they are bag por two days, then they are goeen' to Afreeca por...two forgheen' MORNTHS teell en' ob February (onless Smoothman mos' corm early por Greencar' eenterbiew)!

So we are auditioneen' cad seethairs who weell leeb een, or a cad seethair where I go an' leeb. Oh man. Ebery year the same theen'.

I yam cude!:

Loogh ad my harbies: aborf: Yompeen'.

Below: Makeen' scratcha.

I can wash weendows.

I guard the pereemeet-hair agains' peegeons.

I yam sorbeillance.

I yam: Don Estorbo de la Bodega Dominicana!

Een retorn you ged:

My cormpany.
My keesses.
My sharp claws.
My boice.
My pelleds (weeth agua, por fabor!)
My leet-hair.
My allowance.
Your allowance.
Nice presen'.

Appleecations being taghen. Or referral to Someworn muy fantasteec. Pleease leab carment or email me direc'. Or email the Wooman, who weell, no doubt, tell you abou' my less attracteeb qualeetees. As eef.

marieyviljoen(ad)gmail(dart)com.

Bag een time

Een the begeeneen'...een case you deedn' know.

I started the blarg two an' a halp yors ago. The wooman came bag frarm Afreeca so depress' I had to deestragh myselb. She was makeen' me crazee. Yoomans. All you need ees pelleds. An' eben THOSE are nard abailable when you need them. I'm yos sayeen'.

Now I hab to fighd hor arf the carmpudehair. She gard the blargeen' idea frarm me. Teepeecal.

Bod tonighd she and the Hermano gabe me smallpieces lambchparps, so ees OK.

Keess the worns you lorf. Especial eef they hab forr.